Happy New Year
by PiscesChikk
Summary: Joss Carter's New Year's Day plans are about to be altered in an unexpected way courtesy of John Reese. Takes place after Prisoner's Dilemma and sometime around the episode All In.
1. Chapter 1

A/N Thanks to fellow fic writer Carolinagirl919 for the prompt. Story is 3 chapters long and was written earlier in the year. Hope you enjoy. :) The story is also unbeta'd so forgive the errors.

I do not own Person of Interest or any of the characters.

* * *

Two days off from work and a mini vacation out of the city to celebrate the New Year was all Carter could think about. The last few weeks had been filled with nothing but case after case compounded by mountains of paperwork that seemed to have no end. Thankfully three out of the four homicides she and Fusco had been investigating had been closed. One remained; a triple homicide with two cold leads, but she was glad she had a small reprieve from trying to figure out who was behind it. It could wait until January 2nd.

She was headed to Atlantic City with Cal; their first trip together as a couple. What had started out pretty casual had become somewhat serious after Rikers. The absence of John, Donnelly's death, and an indescribable emptiness that seemed to plague her had all thrust her back into his orbit. They spent more and more time together after work, had coffee, drinks, then dinners. Sleepovers came eventually, and the first night she spent over at his place, he'd gone out of his way to prove what a good and attentive lover he could be. It seemed he was going above and beyond in an attempt to impress her.

Carter couldn't complain. For almost three years, she'd been practically at the beck and call of two vigilantes who worked outside of the law while getting nothing in return. She was overdue for some reciprocity. Capturing criminals with their assistance always felt good. Protecting innocent victims felt better, but Rikers had taken a lot out of her, more than she cared to admit to herself or anyone else for that matter, and it left her with feelings of apathy towards both John and Finch at the end of it. It was high time someone catered to her needs and wants, and Cal had simply been in the right place at the right time. He sweet talked her, wined and dined her, pampered her, and soon his presence chipped away a huge chunk of the emptiness she felt. She cared about him, she truly did, and maybe as time went by, she could grow to love him. Maybe this trip was the first step in that direction. Maybe this trip was the right thing to do.

* * *

"Louis Mitchell, sixty eight years old…best card sharp in Atlantic City."

Reese sipped on his near cold coffee and grimaced while Finch gave him the run down on their latest number. Apparently the old guy had run amok of gangsters when he was younger, quit, and then scammed a casino owner to fund his wife's stem cell treatment when she got sick.

 _It was noble of him_ , Reese reasoned inwardly. Romantic maybe, but stupid. Now he was being forced to launder drug money at the casino by its corrupt owner, and a high stakes game was set for New Year's Eve. _Tonight_.

"Things could go very badly for Mr. Mitchell if he loses any of that money," Finch said.

"How much are the stakes tonight, Finch?" Reese asked as he joined Harold at the board.

"Five million. We have to remove Mr. Mitchell from this situation. And fast, Mr. Reese"

"I'm guessing we have to go to Atlantic City."

It was a rhetorical question, and while he had no plans for New Year's Eve, the last thing he wanted to do was spend it in a hotel babysitting a geriatric who hadn't had the good sense to ' _know when to_ _run'_. He sighed. He was in a foul mood; had been for a very long time. In fact he felt as if he'd been walking around on autopilot ever since Rikers.

He was blindly following Finch's orders and working numbers as usual, but he felt detached and disconnected from everyone in a way he couldn't explain. He wasn't sure that he even wanted to. Rikers hadn't been any different than other interrogations he'd had to endure when he'd been captured in the past, but somehow it had felt different. Before when he'd gotten out, he'd seamlessly slipped back into his life of espionage as if nothing had happened. This time it wasn't so easy. He couldn't slip into the shadows and withdraw into himself and away from others, he had to protect innocent people, work with Finch. He had to pretend he didn't need to see Carter and that the comfort of her presence alone hadn't kept him going while he was locked in his cell.

It had been well over a month since he'd gotten out, yet something compelled him to stay away from her even though everything inside him was screaming for him to do the opposite. He'd started drinking as a way of escape. Never on the job, but when he dragged himself back to his loft at the end of the day or night, he spent much of his time in search of the bottom of a bottle of whiskey.

Something had to give soon.

"Not we, Mr. Reese. Just you. Something of a…" Finch paused as he walked back to his desk. He hesitated as he sat down heavily. "…personal nature has come up. I need to attend to it."

Reese blinked and turned his attention towards the board. He stared at the photo taped to the board, but his mind was already thinking about the personal matter Finch was referring to. It could be Will, something to do with Grace, or his company IFT. He waited, giving Finch time to be more forthcoming with any other information he might want to share, but other than a slightly pained expression on his face, he wouldn't say more.

"You can take Detective Fusco with you for back up," Finch suggested.

Reese scoffed. "Fusco? No thanks."

"It would be good if you didn't go alone. Men like that casino owner is bound to have people watching Mitchell's every move in addition to a top notch security team of his own. I figured since you and Carter weren't -"

"Since me and Carter weren't what?" He hadn't meant to snap at him, but his curt tone when he answered Finch practically turned his question into a snarl.

"Since you and Detective Carter seemed to have stopped communication…for some time now."

There usually wasn't much that Finch didn't know, Reese thought. He guessed he shouldn't be surprised that Finch had realized how things had deteriorated between him and Carter. He'd hoped though that even if Finch had picked up on it, he wouldn't mention it. It was the type of pain that Reese preferred to hold close to the vest and carry alone. He didn't want to share it with anyone. Not even Finch.

"I can handle it on my own." He stalked towards the door and tossed the Styrofoam cup into the trash. "I'll let you know when I get there."

"As you wish, Mr. Reese."

* * *

"What are you wearing?" Carter asked and stared in disbelief at Cal. His smile was wide, eyes twinkling, but she felt confused. "Why do you have swim trunks on, Cal?"

"For the polar bear plunge, Joss."

He walked over and put his arms around her waist. She licked her bottom lip before her mouth set into a grim line.

"Are you gonna tell me what that is?"

"Well," he said, softly kissing her neck. "It's an annual charity event for multiple sclerosis. And hundreds of people participate in it."

"Participate how?" she asked, her annoyance dissipating as his lips lowered to her shoulder.

"Well there's the monetary donation." He softly kissed her mouth. "Then there's the plunge - literal plunge - into the Atlantic. Swimsuits…" he brushed her lips again. "…swim trunks…" another kiss. "…and nothing else."

"It sounds like a good cause, but it's below thirty outside. It's supposed to start snowing later tonight. How safe is it? And what if you get sick?"

"I won't."

She ran her hands over his bare back and let them move lower to his butt. A few short seconds later and she could feel his manhood pushing against her tummy.

"You sure you wanna plunge into the Atlantic?" she asked as she nipped at his lower lip. "You sure you don't wanna take a plunge into something else?"

Her question elicited a soft groan from him and she put her arms around his neck while she kissed him hard. "What time does this thing start?" she could feel her nipples pucker against her sweater.

"Ten minutes, he answered. "So take off your clothes. I signed you up for it, too."

"What?"

* * *

"Mr. Reese, have you made contact with Mr. Mitchell?"

Reese pulled the handle of the slot machine looking at the two apples and bunch of grapes that appeared. He was running out of coins.

"I have. But Lou's been uncooperative for the most part." As he spoke Lou was filing into a room along with four other affluent and well attired men, and they all took seats at a table. The croupier acknowledged all the players, gave a brief obligatory explanation of the game and stakes and started to deal the cards.

From his vantage point, Reese could clearly see into the room, and after cloning Lou's cell phone, he was able to listen in and follow everything that was going on. It was going to be a long night. Every man at the table had deep pockets and histories of betting big. They played the long game, and they played to win.

Reese recalled his conversation with the old man earlier when he'd first arrived. Initially he'd been surprised, then skeptical that Reese had somehow received prior knowledge about him being in trouble. Even if he was in danger, Lou reckoned that he'd already lived a life that had been full and blessed. He'd met and married the woman of his dreams and had been lucky enough to have spent thirty good years with her before she died. If it was his time to go, then he'd go out with a bang. He had nothing left to lose.

And contrary to Reese or Finch's opinion on the matter, Lou didn't think that he would, in fact, lose. He knew who he'd be playing tonight, and he knew that he could beat them. And when he did, he planned on taking all of the winnings including the casino owner's money and leaving the country for good. Italy seemed a good place to retire. He'd settle there and live out the rest of his days.

Reese looked at him, knew he was crazy, but he knew nothing short of kidnapping Lou would stop him. So he decided to stick around and watch over him instead. If he did win as he predicted, he'd need help leaving the casino with all the cash. Reese figured he'd at least give him a clear exit.

"What do you mean, uncooperative?"

"I mean he still intends to play."

"And you didn't try to talk him out of it?"

Reese shrugged as he loaded the slot machine with his last two coins and let it roll. "What can I say Finch? The man feels lucky, and I couldn't stop him. Don't worry though; I'll stick around till the game is done. I won't let him out of my sight."

 _A bunch of grapes. A banana. One peach._

 _Pathetic_ , Reese thought. He hoped that Lou at least had some luck tonight.

The smile on the old man's face indicated that fortune was somewhat on his side so far and he gathered the chips that were slid in his direction. Reese's attention moved to his left suddenly. With no explanation, he felt a subtle shift in the room. The hairs on his arms stood up and he felt aware of someone nearby.

His gaze fell on a woman with brown skin, dark black hair that hung down her back, and a laugh that sounded very familiar. He squinted, focusing on her profile, and when she turned, he realized it was Joss.

He let out a breath he hadn't known he was holding, but it did nothing to ease the tightening in his chest. He was transported back to that dark room with the one light that illuminated it and the camera that was pointed right at him. He was sitting across from her once more, staring into her big brown eyes and silently accepting her nonverbal promise that she'd help him get out.

He was in Donnelly's SUV again, handcuffed and feeling unworthy of the praise she heaped on him when she called him good. He was in the hallway of the DOD memorizing the lines of her face, the sound of her voice and every good thing about her before he walked off to die alone.

He realized that he'd stayed away from her for reasons that suddenly felt stupid. The compulsion to go to her right now was far stronger than what had initially caused him to run away. Lou was forgotten, and Reese was already on his feet. He was about to make a beeline for her when he saw Cal Beecher put his arm around her shoulder and plant a kiss to her cheek.

"Cal," he murmured. She was with Cal.

Of course they were together. They'd dated earlier in the year and had seemed to get along with each other. It made sense that they'd continue seeing each other now. He wondered if it was serious. He wondered if she loved him.

She couldn't have. Not that quickly. Carter wasn't the type of woman who'd fall easily. But the smile on her face was deceiving. The teasing laugh she gave him hinted at something deeper.

Had he lost her? Like he'd lost Jessica? Was she really happy with Cal?

The question replayed in his mind as they both disappeared out the entrance of the lobby.

He didn't care. He needed her. He wanted her. That was all that mattered. Cal didn't.

* * *

Finch shuffled through the front doors of New York Presbyterian Lower Manhattan and took the elevator to the fifth floor. He tried to quell the panic that was rising as he approached the nurses' station and spoke with one of them on duty. Grace had been involved in an accident. The taxi she was in had been hit from behind and she had unfortunately hit her head. She'd been cataleptic at the scene when the ambulance had arrived and had yet to regain consciousness.

All he kept thinking about were the years they'd spent apart because he wanted to protect her. Years he'd yearned to be by her side but had stayed away, and now it was possible he was going to lose her to a car accident instead of by the government's hands.

"Good night. I'm here to see Grace Hendricks." His hands shook a little as he rested them on the countertop.

"And you are?" A young brunette looked up from her monitor to glance at him. Her name tag said A. Peterson.

"Her fiancé, Harold Wren."

Hospital security had already checked his ID, and a visitor's pass was pinned to the lapel of his coat. A few strokes of his keyboard back at the library earlier had updated all of Grace's information; her address, next of kin, and the name of her fiancé that was still alive. He knew it would be a risk if she woke up, but he had to see her, if only for a moment.

"I'll take you to see her, Mr. Wren." The nurse's face softened as she got up, and led him a few doors down to Room 504. Her head was bandaged, as was her right hand; she had two broken fingers. Her heart monitor beeped loudly in the room, and her bedsheets were drawn up just over her chest. She looked so peaceful, as if she was simply deep in a restful slumber.

Finch let out a sigh that was so heavily laden with emotion; he couldn't believe the sound came from his own mouth. The nurse gave him a report of how she was doing. Contrary to what he'd first found when he'd hacked the hospital's records online, she _had_ regained consciousness for a while; a good sign, according to Nurse Peterson. She'd been given a sedative and something for pain. The neurologist would see her as soon as she woke up.

"Thank you, nurse."

She nodded and left the room. Years of suppressed emotion came out in a floodgate of silent tears that slid down Finch's face. He couldn't stop them even as he pulled the armchair in her room closer to her bed and sat down. She looked so small, so fragile, and for the first time in years he felt like he had no control. Over _anything_.

"Grace," he quietly cried as he held her hand. "Grace…"

* * *

Carter looked at Cal's near lifeless body under the covers and shook her head. The polar bear plunge had been completed since before ten in the morning, and now at shortly after 7pm he had congestion and a fever. She walked over to the closet to get a spare blanket and piled it on top of him. He'd have to sweat the fever out, the more blankets the better. After forcing him to swallow some chicken broth and giving him some cold and flu meds, he was out like a light.

If only he'd listened to her, she thought, they'd be getting ready to have dinner in one of the restaurants downstairs and then taken in a casino show before they did a little gambling at the slots. This was not how she wanted to spend New Year's Eve. This was not how she wanted to spend her hard earned days off from work.

She picked up her cell and called Taylor. He was out with a few friends and gave her a quick rundown of where they were headed for the rest of the evening before he hung up. She flipped through a few channels on the flat screen, but nothing caught her attention. A few more minutes of Beecher's snoring was enough to convince her to get out of the hotel suite.

She took a shower, got dressed and finally headed downstairs. She felt a little guilty as she hit the ground floor, but shook it off. Beecher was sick, he was dead to the world; there was no good reason she absolutely _had_ to stay in the hotel room with him. Besides, the amber lights just inside _Elaine's_ entrance were beckoning to her, and she walked in that direction. Just as she was greeted by the maître'd, she saw movement to her left and turned around just in time to see John.

A plethora of emotions bubbled to the surface. She couldn't decide whether or not she was angry, sad, or relieved to finally see him. It felt like it had been ages since they had spoken, and the unresolved feelings about Rikers and what they'd both gone through hit her all at once. She didn't have time to process any of them however; John appeared to be outnumbered, and he along with a much older gentlemen seemed to be led against their will down a long walkway.

She kissed her teeth in annoyance. The universe seemed to be conspiring against her desire for a nice, quiet start to the New Year. It just didn't seem to be in the cards. She looked at the maître'd and politely excused herself. Slowly she headed towards the walkway and followed John.

Whatever he was up to, he was going to need her help.


	2. Chapter 2

Joss' footsteps sounded erratic and uneven as they landed on the carpet and tiled floors of the hallway. She made herself stagger in hopes that the men not far in front of her would buy her feeble attempt at pretending to be drunk. One of them turned around, and she giggled as she made eye contact.

"Where y'all going?" she asked, deliberately slurring her speech and looked glassy eyed at the tall man with dark brown hair that was approaching her. He was burly, had lines in his forehead and a ponytail that was long enough to lay across his shoulder. "Where's the little girl's room? I need to tinkle."

She forced a hiccup and ignored the man's obvious annoyance. She got closer and succeeded in getting the attention of the entire group. She pouted and put her hand on the goon's shoulder.

"Lady, you're in the wrong place at the very wrong time." he started to pry her arm away, but she pressed her body closer to him and gave him an ample view of her cleavage. He was distracted enough that his expression softened a bit. "You are a pretty little thing, aren't you?" he said, his voice lowered.

"You're not so bad yourself," she replied, tamping down the disgust she felt at his lecherous gaze. She felt angry suddenly; angry that yet again she was bailing John out when he didn't deserve it.

"Stu, we don't have time for this! We have other business to take care of." The unmistakable Brooklyn accent that boomed behind him was harsh, and both Carter and Stu turned to look at the man who was obviously in charge of the group. "Get rid of the hooker and come on."

Carter's sharp glare could've cut him in two, but the attention she drew when she made it a point of telling him loudly that she wasn't a hooker was just enough of a distraction to give John an opportunity to make a move.

She watched him disarm three of them in what felt like seconds, and shortly after, he knocked Stu and another one of the casino owner's men to the ground after they joined the fray.

"Holy shit!"

Lou's expletive echoed in the hallway, but as Carter stared back at Reese almost as if she didn't hear him. John's chest was heaving, a thin sheen of sweat coated his face, but not a hair on his head was out of place. The familiar intensity was in his eyes, and they darkened with adrenaline. Yet there was something else in his stare as he looked at her. It was raw energy, desire, need, and it was as tangible as the clutch she held in her hand.

"Who are you, sugar?" The older man's question helped tear her gaze away from John, and Carter turned to Lou to shake his hand.

"That name's Detective Carter; NYPD. Are you okay?" she asked. She put a concerned hand on his arm, and he nodded.

"Forgive me, Detective. I'm fine, I'm fine," he replied, still wide eyed in disbelief at how quickly everything had happened. "You just saved our lives. Thank you."

Reese looked at Carter as she stood not twenty feet from him. She was breathtaking up close, much more so than she looked earlier when he saw her crossing the casino floor with Beecher. Her attire then had been casual; jeans and a sweater and warm gloves on her hands. Tonight, she was stunning, and he couldn't pry his eyes off of her. Her hair was curled and swept up to the side. Dark tendrils kissed her bare golden shoulder. She wore a plum coloured halter top gown that complimented her toned arms in the best way. The corseted bodice cinched her waist and pushed her breasts upwards. The curve of them sent heat flowing all through his body.

He watched her barely acknowledge him even as he openly looked at her with all the desire he felt. She was aware of him. He was sure of it. He knew it even though she quickly turned away from him and called the local authorities for assistance. She ushered Lou closer to the casino floor and away from the men who lay at his feet.

He looked around for Beecher, fully expecting him to show up, and he wondered how far behind he was. When minutes passed and he didn't show, Reese wondered where he'd disappeared to. He slunk into the shadows as the police appeared, and Carter led Lou away to make a statement. He watched her assure Lou that he'd be okay and that she'd check on him in the morning.

Reese's desire was building by the second, growing into something that begged to be sated. His need for her was blinding, and he watched her straighten her clothes and head down the casino floor. She made a turn for the corridor that led to the elevators.

He followed.

* * *

Carter closed her eyes. She knew he was behind her; she could sense him with every part of her being. She was still angry, so angry she couldn't think straight. She was never the type to yell or make a public scene, but she didn't feel herself at all tonight. If he approached while she was feeling the way she did, she wasn't completely sure how she'd react.

She quickened her pace and headed for the elevators straight ahead. Maybe it was better to spend the night in the hotel room with Beecher. Coming down here was obviously a mistake.

* * *

Finch noted the time on the silent TV screen in Grace's room. It was just past midnight. Visiting hours were long over, but he'd convinced the nurse to let him stay. He couldn't leave until Grace woke up.

He wasn't really sure what he'd tell her when she finally opened her eyes. All he knew was that right now, he couldn't leave her.

His eyes moved to the bandages on her hand and he winced. He hoped that whatever damage was done, her artistic abilities weren't permanently hindered. Being an illustrator was all she'd ever done, all she'd ever known. It was what kept her going after he left, and he would hate for her to lose that.

He thought about the hours she'd spent on a piece, her attention to the tiny details of her portraits. It was all a swirl of colour to him, strokes on a canvas, but Grace made them all come alive. He'd always been in awe of her talent.

"Remember that time we were in the park, and you insisted on doing my portrait?" He spoke almost as if she was awake and they were engaged in conversation. "You called it 'Man of Leisure'."

He was filled with nostalgia as he remembered that day. It was particularly cool, the wind was blowing, leaves rustling in the trees, but all he could remember was that it was a lovely moment because he got to share it with Grace.

"I did look quite leisurely, didn't I?"

He gripped her hand a little tighter. "If I could take it all back, Grace, I…"

 _Would he take it all back? he wondered. If he had to choose between leaving her and protecting her, would he? Could he still stay away from her knowing what he knew now?_

"I'm so sorry, Grace. I'm so sorry."

* * *

She was running. She was running away from _him_. Her footsteps were eating up the floor quickly, and before she got onto the elevator just in front of her, Reese knew he had to stop her.

"Joss."

She froze in her tracks, and the quick slump of her shoulders before she straightened them again told him that she knew he was behind her. She turned around slowly, and looked him squarely in the eye.

There were so many questions in her gaze; questions he didn't have the answer to. There were accusations he didn't dare look away from. He pretty much deserted her after she'd saved his ass and risked her entire career to do it. A part of him recoiled on the inside, but his need to dispel the darkness that was eating away at him was stronger than his remorse and guilt.

Her gaze didn't waver, and she didn't move even though he advanced on her. Her voice trembled when she spoke, but he didn't have an answer.

He didn't want to talk. He was way past words right now.

"What do you want, John?" she asked.

"This." In the darkened corridor, it was the only word that he uttered before he cupped her cheek to kiss her. Once their lips touched, an instant feeling of relief was transferred from her to him. It washed over him as he nipped at her mouth, teased her tongue. It scorched a path of heat that travelled through him, searing every nerve ending in his body.

He felt her palms move up his chest, and seconds after she'd started to respond to him, she was pushing him away.

She shook her head, tried to focus, but the flush on her skin exposed the desire she felt. It was the same yearning he felt right now. He took a step towards her, and the flat of her hand landed soundly on his face. His dick grew harder at the harsh contact, and he gritted his teeth.

He swore silently, watching conflict move across her features. She took the tiniest of steps in his direction and fisted her hand in his lapel. Moments later he was drowning in the feel of her again, crushing his lips over hers and fanning the flames that had just started to build between them.

Though the corridor was dark and they were mostly concealed from view of the crowds that occupied the casino, he knew they couldn't stay there for much longer without being seen.

"Come with me," he murmured against her mouth before kissing her again. "Come with me, Joss."

It wasn't a request. It wasn't a command. But it was more of an insistence that they release all the anger, frustration, and the hurt that their words felt inadequate to express.

The elevator door opened, and a couple walked out. He twined their fingers together and pulled her into the lift.

"Come with me."

* * *

Minutes ticked away on the clock, and Finch found himself rambling on from one topic to the next as he held Grace's hand. The chair was starting to irritate his back and his leg and he felt stiffness start to set into his bones. He realized he should get up to stretch for a bit, but he was reluctant to move even a few feet away from her. He fished into his pocket in search of the small prescription bottle and palmed one of the small pain relievers inside. He swallowed it quickly, then chased it with a sip of water from a small bottle on a tray near the bed.

"The truth is, Grace…I was a coward. I was scared that something might happen to you…something very well could have…but I was scared of what you might think if you knew who I really was. What would you think if you knew the real me? My real name…what I'd done? Would you still want to be with me?"

He spoke the words into the dark, and only the faint ticking of the clock on the wall responded. Only the white noise of the TV filled the air until he grabbed the remote and switched it off.

He slowly lowered his head on the back of the chair and closed his eyes. "Oh, Grace."

"Harold?"

His eyes opened wide in the darkness, and he raised his head carefully before he slid to the edge of the chair.

"Harold is that you?"

"I'm here. I'm here. It's me."

* * *

A quick swipe of a key gained them access to John's room in the hotel, and they both stumbled inside together. Joss grabbed at the shirt around his waist and pulled it out of his pants while he hastily pulled at the catch of her dress around her neck.

Their shoes came off and so did his jacket, but time wasn't wasted on getting fully unclothed. He was leading her to the couch and all she could think about was the need to have him inside her. She undid his belt buckle and zipper and sought out the hardness that had pressed itself against her belly. She didn't know when his shirt had come undone, but placed a kiss in the middle of his chest and smiled when he let out a ragged breath.

His fingers found the back of her neck, caressed it, then ran through her hair. Hairpins flew in different directions across the floor and her hair fell over her shoulders. She didn't want to wait, and neither did he. She was already wet, and he'd been ready since they started kissing downstairs.

With her dress bunched about her waist and her breasts exposed, she felt her panties being taken off her with impatient fingers. She was sure she heard the sound of ripping fabric before they hit the floor. He lifted her in the air, and when he sat down, he lowered her slowly down his length.

Both of them grunted, and she put her head back as she took him to the hilt. She took a while to get used to the feel of him, felt him throb as her softness molded itself to him. Then she began to move. The need for friction would not allow her to keep still for long, and she dug her nails into his shoulders as sweet oblivion started to overtake her movements atop him.

His thumbs circled her nipples as he grunted and moaned, then his hands moved over her butt to help her along as she ground over him. She felt a swirl of emotion between them, familiar feelings of trust, vulnerability, friendship? She didn't want to feel that; not now, and she moved with an even quicker urgency than before.

John picked up on her nonverbal cues when her fingers bore into his skin and her teeth sunk into his shoulder. She needed more. Wanted more. So did he. He scooped her up and slid off the couch and spun her around to position her on her knees. When he entered her again, he started to pump hard. His thrusts were brutal, and cruel, but so good. They felt like anger and resentment and all the confusion she'd felt for months. She pushed back at his strokes, buried her head into the cushioned back of the couch and groaned.

"Fuck me, John. Fuck me."

He did as he was told, twisting her, pulling at her, biting her until he finally took them over the edge. He lay panting over her after he came, and she felt a huge weight was lifted off of her. She heard him sniffle; turned to look at him and saw tears rolling down his cheeks.

"John…"

She gently cupped his cheek and softly kissed his lips.

* * *

Grace's eyes fluttered open and it took her a while to fully focus. When her gaze landed in her direction she stared at him wide eyed in disbelief. He felt relief that she was okay and guilt that their paths had crossed this way after all the years that had passed. Tears streamed down her cheeks, and she made an attempt to sit upright.

"Don't make any sudden moves. You've endured a horrible shock." He got up from his chair and sat down beside her on the bed. She reached for him, touching his shoulders, his hands, and finally she cupped his cheek.

"Is it really you?" she asked, her voice trembling. "Am I dreaming? Is this a dream? I think I hit my head." Her hands touched the bandages at her temple. "Am I going to be okay?"

It occurred to him that he could go on letting her believe he was a hallucination. The mind had ways of playing tricks on people especially when they'd experienced trauma. He could spend some time with her until morning, and then slip away quietly when she finally went back to sleep. Though she'd still be safe, Finch realized that the act of deserting her twice in one lifetime would be crueler than she deserved. He wouldn't - couldn't - lie to her anymore. He'd just have to figure out how to deal with this new challenge later.

"You are not dreaming, Grace." Finch was surprised at how much lighter he felt as the simple, yet weighty revelation rolled off his tongue. After years of daydreams about telling her the truth, he never imagined it would happen in a hospital room after she'd nearly died. "It's really me."

"How?" she asked, shakily.

Amidst tears, the smile that split her face was wide. He could tell that she was sad, confused and still in pain, and he wanted to reassure her.

"It's okay, it's okay. There's a lot to explain, and I promise you that we will talk about it all. What's important now is that you get some rest, okay?"

"Okay."

"Let's get the nurse in here so that she can take a look at you." He reached for the buzzer near her bed to call for the nurse, and even when she entered, Grace was reluctant to let go of his hand.

"I'm not going anywhere," he promised her. "I'm staying right here."

* * *

Covered in sweat, but still very congested and groggy, Beecher opened his eyes in the bed. He raised his head, an action that took a huge amount of effort on his part and looked around the room. It was quiet, and he listened to hear if Joss was nearby, but he heard nothing. Not even the sound of the TV from the small area out front.

"Joss." His voice was barely recognizable to his own ears, and his throat felt parched. "Joss," he called out again, but nobody answered. He turned from his back to his side, trying desperately to get out from under the mountain of blankets that Joss had buried on top of him and finally sat up.

He was exhausted, but he managed to pull himself upright and walk to the bureau to grab a small bottle of water. After draining it, he called out for her again. Alarm bells rang in his head, or was that the headache that had been pounding since earlier?

 _Where was she?_

He ambled back to the bed, sat down and felt enormous relief when his back hit the mattress once more. Slumber took him quickly, and the sounds of his soft snoring filled the air.


	3. Chapter 3

Reese pulled Carter onto his lap, and she wrapped her arms around him. He seemed to relax as she lay against his chest, but his tears had yet to subside. He was holding her so tight that she felt his belt buckle pressing into the soft skin of her thigh, but she didn't move an inch, wouldn't let him go, not when he was suddenly so afraid and vulnerable. He was shaking, and the anger she felt not more than an hour ago was replaced by worry.

She shushed him, soothed him almost as she would a child, and finally the rush of emotion that gripped him, let him go.

"I didn't know how much I needed you." His words were muffled as he murmured them near her throat. She scooted back a bit on his lap and looked up at him.

"I didn't know how much I needed you, Joss" he repeated. "I went years without needing anything but the job. When the agency burned me, I lost the job, and without it I didn't know what to do. I had nothing, no one. I was empty. I know I needed something…a purpose. Finch gave that to me, but…you gave me something else."

His hands around her waist tightened, and he held her as if he was afraid his words would drive her away.

"What was it?"

"Hope," he answered as he held her hand. "A reason to live. A reason to believe again."

"John -"

His kiss cut off anything else she was about to say. It was soft and sensual, drawn out and deep. He moved his mouth over hers tenderly, and it was a stark contrast to how his lips had bruised hers earlier. She felt months of tension start to fade away under the gentle movement of his hands as they splayed across her back, and he deepened their kiss.

His tongue parted her lips, slid inside her mouth, and captured hers in the sweetest way. She moved closer to him, her nipples starting to pucker against his chest.

He cupped both her cheeks as their foreheads touched. "Let me make love to you, Joss. Please."

* * *

Grace eyed Finch through heavily lidded eyes. Her grip on his hand had been firm about ten minutes earlier, but after she'd been given more medication, it had loosened considerably. She was drifting off to sleep quickly.

The nurse had done a quick assessment of her, checked her vitals and BP, and she was happy to report that it had stabilized. The neurologist would perform a more thorough check in just a few hours, and until he arrived, he'd asked that Grace have some more rest.

"I'm afraid once I close my eyes, you'll disappear again. I don't want you to lose you again, Harold. I can't."

He remembered promises he'd made to her in the past, things he'd wanted to say to her before. He wondered if he had the right to make new ones now, and if he did, could he truly keep them? The hope that had sprung up after she woke up now started to dwindle under the weight of practicality and logic. As long as the Machine existed, could they ever truly be free to live their lives without fear of who'd come looking for them?

"I know that look on your face, Harold. I've seen it before. I ignored it a couple times, brushed it off and tried to ignore it, but I knew it was something you weren't telling me."

Though her voice was softer than before, her tone didn't diminish the impact of her words. She'd felt lied to, tricked, but still she had decided to trust him. He didn't deserve her. Never had, never would.

"There is a lot I hid from you, Grace."

"But you'll tell me everything, right?"

He hesitated as he looked down on her from the side of her bed.

"But you'll tell me everything. _Right_ , Harold?"

Her eyes fluttered shut, and this time they didn't reopen. The medication had finally pulled her under. He hadn't given her an answer. He didn't know if he could now, even as the words teetered on the edge of his tongue. He took in the lines of her face, the curve of her lips, the warmth that she showed him even though she'd suffered a lot in the accident.

He couldn't stay.

It was a fact he sadly accepted as he watched her chest rise and fall in slumber.

He felt the explosion on the dock all over again, and his heart pounded in his chest knowing he had to slip away like he had before.

* * *

The feel of Joss underneath him was nothing like the first time he'd been inside her moments ago. It was nothing like anything Reese had felt with any other woman before. He couldn't describe it, couldn't adequately put words to the pleasure that had him firmly in its grasp right now. It wasn't just the physical feel of her as he slid in and out of her warmth. It was the touch of her hands on his back, her mouth on his shoulder and lips, the way she looked at him and saw right past the façade of strength and control he tried to show the world.

She was touching his soul, the deepest part of him, and it was more profound than the connection he'd felt to her in the interrogation room. She'd begun to peel back his layers to reveal what he'd kept hidden underneath. She'd gotten stories of his childhood, hints of what things had been like growing up. He'd even revealed the guilt he'd felt over leaving Jessica, but none of that could compare to where he was taking her now. Now she was stripping him bare; there was nothing left.

"John…" she moaned his name as her fingernails dug into his back; she was falling over the edge just as quickly as he was. He gathered her closer to him, buried his face in her neck and groaned his release.

Moments passed while he kissed her, while the heat and sweat of their bodies meshed together. He was exhausted, but content; he didn't want to move, not even an inch. Joss groaned, and the sound brought a slight frown to his face.

"John," she said, softly.

"Yes," he answered.

"You're crushing me. You gotta get up."

He giggled, mumbled he was sorry and raised himself up on his elbows. He pulled out of her, and she hissed as his seed followed.

"Better?" he asked as he pulled her close.

"It's great, except now I'm lying on the wet spot."

"I can fix that."

He slid off the bed, and Joss laughed at the sight of his pale bottom scurrying to the bathroom.

"What are you doing?" she asked, a sleepy smile on her face. He came back with two towels; a warm one that he used to help clean her up and a big fluffy one to place underneath her once she was done.

After he got back in bed, he reached for her again, and she felt comfortable as she lay in his arms. "Better?" he asked again.

"Much better."

"I know."

Things had fallen into place just like that. Like always, few words said a lot between them. They both knew things were better, but now things were incredibly different. Despite the complications that were bound to follow what happened here tonight, there was no going back for either of them. With Beecher, she'd been running from something she didn't want to confront. She was searching for something she couldn't name, but within just a few hours with John, she'd found it. Peace. Resolution. Now, she no longer felt like a part of her was missing.

"You know I can't let you go, Joss. Not after tonight."

He was waiting to hear her response. Waiting to hear if she felt the same way too.

"Do you love him?" he asked just as she was about to speak. His voice hitched at the end, and his arm tightened around her waist.

"No." She was surprised at how quickly she said it, but the guilt that she immediately felt was heavy. Cal was sick and asleep upstairs while she was here with John. "No, I don't love him. I care about him, but…"

"But what?"

"You're not the only one who wasn't sure about their feelings. I mean, we've worked together, John, looked out for each other. But, this was different. I wasn't sure that you were gonna be okay. And I didn't know how much I needed you to just be okay."

She felt tears sting her eyes, thinking about him getting beat up in the yard, thinking about how she would've done just about anything to make sure he'd gotten out. He turned her to face him and pulled her into a hug. Silent tears slid down her face and onto his shoulder. And somehow he felt that they were washing away every negative thing that had happened to them earlier in the year. It was a cleansing they both needed.

"I'm okay, Joss," he promised her. "We're okay."

* * *

Finch slipped out of Grace's room and looked around. The halls were quiet since the majority of the patients were sleeping. The only sound that could be heard was the hum of the air conditioner and the scuffling of PT's who went from room to room to periodically check patients' vitals.

Nurse Peterson was still behind the nurse's station. A chart held her attention until she caught sight of him and looked up. She offered him a tired smile. She'd been here since he arrived in the early evening; she was probably as exhausted as he was.

"Would you like some coffee, Mr. Wren?" She got up from her chair and rounded the desk. "I was just about to take a break."

Outside the darkness of night was starting to fade. The faint hint of morning was beginning to break the sky. In the next few hours, Grace would be awake, and he wanted to be gone before she opened her eyes. His promise to be there weighed heavily on him, but breaking it was something he had to do.

He glanced at Grace's closed room door, mentally saying goodbye.

"She's going to be fine, Mr. Wren. I promise you. She should be happy to see you when she wakes up."

"Nurse Peterson…I think I will join you for that coffee. However, I need to ask you a favour."

Reese woke up to an empty bed. He wasn't sure exactly when Carter had left the room, but it was five o'clock in the morning when he opened his eyes and she was gone. He didn't hear any noise coming from the bathroom, nothing from the living room area of the suite. His heart sank thinking that she'd had regrets about what had happened and chose to run.

He shut off the alarm that had roused him from slumber and sat up in bed. They'd been through too much together. Had endured too much to get to this point, and he wasn't about to let her go. She might very well be with Beecher right now, but he didn't care. He reached for his cell phone with intentions of dialing her number when he heard the suite door open and close.

Footsteps sounded on the carpet and kept moving closer. He threw off the covers and started towards them. Looking like a disheveled angel was Joss standing before him. Her hair was a little wild, face fresh and devoid of makeup. She was carrying a beverage carton in one hand and a brown paper bag in the other.

"Good morning," she said, not missing his evident sigh of relief at the sight of her. "I'm sorry," she said. "You were asleep; I didn't want to wake you. Coffee?"

He took them from her and put them on the bureau near the flat screen. His heart finally slowed down its erratic pace. His momentary panic at her leaving actually startled him. He put his arms around her while she burrowed her face in his chest.

"Good morning."

He breathed her in and smelled a hint of her perfume mixed with the scent of their love making. He wanted her again. His lips touched her neck, and though she moaned she stopped him.

"I have to go, John." She shook her head. "I have to get back to Beecher. He's sick after that stupid Polar Bear Plunge he did yesterday."

"Polar Bear Plunge? In this weather?"

She nodded. "I told him he was crazy for doing it. He sat on the bed, rubbing his growing erection and watched her take a small box out of the bag.

"What's that?"

She shrugged. "Some cold medicine for Beecher…and the Morning After pill."

He gave a quick nod but said nothing. In a city like Vegas, where you could get any and everything at any hour of the night, it made sense for her to go and get it. He watched her swallow it and chase it with a mouthful of coffee, thinking that it was best that he not voice his inner thoughts of her possibly being pregnant with his child. It would complicate both of their lives immeasurably, but the part of him that had always wanted a family when he was younger briefly rose from its dormant state.

"Look, John."

"You're not going to give me the 'this was fun but it was all a mistake' speech, are you, Joss?"

His heart was sinking. After weeks of not being around her, he couldn't imagine going back to that lonely place.

"No, I'm not." She stood between his legs and put her arms around his neck. "But I just need you to give me some time to end things with Beecher. He's been nothing but good to me, and I owe it to him to do it right."

He slipped his arms around her and quelled the impatience that rose up inside him. He knew she wasn't being unreasonable, but he so very badly wanted her to be all his without any further obstacles. He pulled her down so that she could straddle his lap. He kissed her lips and savored the taste and feel of her one last time.

"Don't take too long," he whispered as he helped her up and walked her to the door.

"I'll see you soon," she said, and he finally let her go.

"See you soon, Joss," he murmured as the door closed behind her. "See you very soon."


End file.
